


CPR

by Forgotten_Peggy



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:51:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Peggy/pseuds/Forgotten_Peggy
Summary: Spot nearly drowns, and Race is the only one who can save him.





	

“You know a newsie called Racetrack? Where is he?” Race heard the younger boys looking for him before they even saw him. They sounded desperate.

Race looked up, “That’s me,” he said. The two younger boys looked terrified for their lives. Race didn’t recognise either of them, but knew they were newsies, and judging by their accents, from Brooklyn.

“You need to come with us, Spot…” the young boy didn’t finish sentence before Race took off, heading towards Spot’s usual selling spot. The other newsboys followed him, and within minutes they were by the edge of the Brooklyn River, just by the bridge.

Race froze as soon as he saw the group of presumably Brooklyn newsies standing around in a worried cluster. “What happened?” Race demanded, pushing through the crowd.

“Spot, he… He got into a fight, guy pushed him into the river, I think he knocked his head,” one of the older newsies said. “The guy ran off and one of our guys pulled him out, he’s,” he didn’t finish his sentence, instead just pointing to where Race could see a figure lying on the ground. Spot.

He lay on his side, seemingly not responsive, two of the older newsies Race recognised from the strike beside him. Spot looked a lot less intimidating unconscious, but Race knew better than to say that to his face when he woke up. _If_ he woke up.

“Why did the guys come get me?” Race asked, still confused, only more concerned than he was previously.

“Someone said you know CPR,” the guy said. Right, CPR. Common sense started to kick into Race’s brain again as he knelt down next to the Brooklyn leader. He quickly grabbed Spot’s wrist, wishing he knew how to pray so he could thank a God that Spot’s pulse was still there.

With only a second’s hesitation, he turned Spot onto his back and pressed his lips to the other newsie’s, blowing air into his lungs. He pulled away quickly, and began pumping on Spot’s chest, silently begging him to wake up. Race repeated the process until one of the Brooklyn newsies announced there was a carriage there that could take him to a hospital.

As soon as the carriage left, Spot and one of the other newsies inside, the Brooklyn boys started leaving in different directions, presumably with more papes to sell, though with no leader they looked lost. Race turned slowly to walk away, but grabbed the arm of one of the younger newsies that had come to find him earlier. “If anything happens, you tell me. You know where to find me,” he said sternly, the younger boy just nodding in response.

Race walked away then, hoping to whatever God could hear him that Spot would be okay, and swearing that if he ever found out pushed Spot, he would make them pay.

~~~

“You know a Race? Racetrack?” Race felt a strange sense of déjà vu, hearing someone looking for him, before his brain caught up with him and he recognised the voice of the young newsie he had spoken to only twice before, both earlier that day.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Race said, descending the stairs of the lodging house, to see the kid standing in the doorway.

“Everything okay?” Jack asked, looking between the two newsies.

“Spot’s in hospital, just woke up, thought Race’d like to know,” the young boy said, before Race could stop him.

“Shut up,” Race said to Jack, before he could even say anything, because he knew exactly what he was going to say. “I saved his life,” he said, as if that explained everything. “You tell anyone else about this, I hurt you, okay?” Race added, and Jack nodded, still looking confused.

“Take me to him,” Race ordered the kid, who again just nodded, before walking off. Race followed him, and for the second time that day, he found himself in Brooklyn, only this time at the hospital. A nurse gave them both a dirty looks as they ran into the hospital, but Race ignored her, too focused on getting to see Spot okay to care.

The sea of newsies around Spot’s bed cleared as Race walked through, silence falling over the previously rowdy boys. “Out,” Spot ordered, and the group immediately turned and began to exit the small room. Race turned to go, but Spot reached out and placed a hand on his arm, so he turned back.

“Hey,” Race said awkwardly, as the last of the newsies left.

“Hey,”

“How ya going? Good to see you alive this time,” Race laughed halfheartedly.

“So, Race, heard ya kissed me,” Spot’s comment made Race step back and raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“And who told you that?” He asked, making a mental note to chastise them later.

“One of the younger kids, said ya kissed me then a bit later I just woke up, kid thought it was something out of a fairytale,”

“It was just CPR, it didn’t mean anything,” Race mumbled defensively.

“Still counts, apparently,” this time it was Spot’s turn to laugh halfheartedly. “Kinda wish I’d been awake for that, though,” Spot said so softly Race wasn’t sure if he’d just been hearing things.

“W-what?” For the first time in his life, Race was speechless.

“Hey, come ‘ere,” Spot said, beckoning Race forward with a single finger. Race knew better than to argue with the king of the Brooklyn newsies, so he stepped forward, and before he knew what was happening, Spot had reached up and grabbed the back of Race’s head, pulling him down until their lips met. Race froze, his eyes wide open with shock, but within seconds his brain started functioning and he was kissing Spot back, something he’d never admit he’d dreamt about.

“Not really surprised that kiss saved my life, guess you’re my own Prince Charming,”

“I guess I am,”


End file.
